The Deadly 38th (Full)

The Deadly 38th

It is at the bottom of a narrow valley that runs between two steep hills covered in foliage where an M-47 Patton cruises slowly down a road towards a village, a motorized unit pulling themselves along behind the hulking tank.

The tank halts suddenly as rapids shots ring out through the valley and bullets strike the hood of the truck behind the tank, causing the driver to swerve to the left and slam the brake, parking the truck in a diagonal position on the road.

"Where the hell did that come from?" Josey, the tank loader asks worriedly.

"I'll be damned if I knew." Tony, the tank commander says sternly, rotating the visor on his hatch to try and locate a source of the shooting.

"Ten-o'-clock, they're up about fifty feet." Tony says as more shots ring out, giving him a clear view of the smoke and muzzle flashes in front of the column.

The tank's turret turns, zeroing in on the gunfire shortly before it stops, obviously noticing the ninety-millimeter facing towards them.

"HE in?" Tony asks, Josey replies with a nod, cuing Tony to tap Wallace in the back with his boot.

The great ninety roars, slinging a shell just above the position of the machine-gunners in the hills. Shortly after the explosion, a great deal of yelling and screaming emanates from the general direction of the now-silent gunfire.

"You didn't have to compensate, you fucker! Waste what's left of those gooks with the thirty!" Tony scolds Wallace, who remains silent with embarrassment.

The co-axel thirty caliber chatters, sending seven-millimeter chunks of lead soaring right at the remaining Koreans. The reaction was almost immediate, the screaming stopped and figures could be seen rolling down the slope, eventually coming to a stop at the left side of the road.

After a couple of minutes of no gunfire, the tank lurches forward and continues down the road, this is followed by the truck straightening out and leading the rest of the column down the road.

An hour after the firefight occurred on the road and the column finally arrives in Chi Qahn village; a small town that overlooks a large mountain range know for having large amounts of NK movement through it.

The Patton rolls to a stop, causing the column to spread out while they park, producing a circle-like pattern reminiscent of settlers rounding their wagons. The Patton is parked facing down what can be considered "Main Street", a long and wide street with buildings on either side, leading to a T-intersection about a thousand feet down the road.

The crew of the tank automatically open their hatches once the steel monster fully stops, injecting fresh mountain air into the gunpowder-filled rolling box. Brent, the driver, turns to Tony as he gets out of the commander's hatch.

"Hey Tony, I was meaning to ask you before we stopped, but do you have a lighter? I ran out of matches a couple of stops ago and didn't think to ask until a couple of minutes ago." Tony reaches into his pocket and pulls out a silver zippo bearing a capital "TA" on the side before handing it to the driver.

Brent rejoices as he lights a cig and inhales deeply, letting the thoughts of ambushes and firefights melt away with every breath.

"Hey Tony, what does 'TA' stand for?" Asks Brent, eyeing the zippo curiously.

"Tony Attikson, my full name, spare the middle one." Tony says, gesturing at Josey for a swig out of his canteen, to which the loader obliges.

"Damn, I think that's the first time we've heard your last name. Well what's you middle name, huh?" Brent asks, turning from his forward-facing position and facing the commander who beams the driver a look between annoyed and sincere.

"I'd rather not say." Tony says, causing Brent to give Tony a disappointed look.

"Come on, Tony, you've drug us this far, don't give us blue-balls, just tell us your name!" Brent begs, causing Wallace, a man of Irish decent with a Belfast accent, to groan with annoyance and shake his head.

"Boss doesn't want to say, so don't force him to, ya fuckin' gibbon." Wallace says, shooting a glare at Brent.

"Alright, alright, sorry for pushin', I didn't mean to upset you guys." Brent says, turning back to his original position, facing away from his crew.

Nobody really blamed Brent, he was only nineteen, no need to be angry at him for being a curious kid. But this is not to say that nobody had a certain disdain for his curiousness, they just weren't angry at Brent himself.

Half an hour after arriving at the small town, the distant scream of jet engines soars over the valleys and over Chi Qahn. The Americans in the town look up and towards the mountain ranges, quickly making their way to the drop-off to see where the action is.

It doesn't take long for two silver dots to come screaming down out of the sky and level out about five-hundred feet over the ground for a couple of seconds before the jet being chased pulls up and begins rolling, attempting to engage in a rolling scissors.

"Holy shit, is that a Russian being chased?" Josey asks, taking off his helmet in disbelief at what he was seeing.

The two planes writhed and turned, somehow keeping within the mountain range that the soldiers were over-looking and presenting them a spectacular show.

Suddenly, the Mig, the plane that was being chased this entire time, straightens out in the direction of the village, canopy suddenly popping off as the pilot jettisons it, intending to bail out. In addition, the Mig pitches up to gain altitude and bleed off airspeed for a safer bail.

However, two seconds into the climb and the F-86-F2 Sabre's twenty-millimeters light up the Mig. The Russian's jet catches fire and begins to flat-spin right as is comes over the town where the soldiers are.

"Holy shit- holy fuck!" Brent exclaims as the flaming wreckage continues to spin and spin closer towards him and his allies.

The jet comes down hard in one of the streets, barely avoiding colliding with the buildings on either side of the road and puffing out a large fireball as it comes in contact with the ground. The fireball spewed flaming fuel that temporarily set the bottom of the clay awnings of the buildings on fire before dying and containing the blaze to the wreckage.

The G.I.s rush to see what their pilot has reaped and watch from thirty feet away as the aircraft burns itself out, the fire completely dying just twenty minutes later.

Within the wreckage, the soldiers found a completely melted cockpit, an intact empennage, and no pilot.

"That's strange," Tony begins, putting a hand to his chin,

"There wasn't a chute." The commander finishes his thought, turning around and scanning the sky but finding nothing.

An hour later and the sun was starting to fall behind one of the mountains right as the last piece of debris was picked up from the crashed Mig-17. By now, a small perimeter was formed around the town itself but needed to be extended beyond its border the next day.

osey smirks as he flips through the Korean magazine he bought at the local shop in the village. Sure, it may be in black and white and not even in English, but the cartoons in it were entertainingly drawn and presented a story that anyone can follow visually.

The Patton sat in the middle of a line of soldiers as two were off ahead of the rest, scouting enemy positions or any suspicious movement.

"Put down that gook-literacy, Josey, it's got Communist subliminal messages, just like chink music." Tony says, lowering his binoculars from his face as he gazes towards the tree-line where the soldiers went to.

"Let me enjoy myself. I have to load the god-damn shells, organize them, and carry the knowledge that the shells I load kill people. Let me read in peace. Besides, I have a democracy-fueled state of mind, if Communism even thinks about injecting itself into my head, I drop a hell-ton of bombs on it." Josey says, giving Tony little more than a mix of an aggravated and smug look.

"Hell-ton... That's a new one." Tony mires at the phrase, chuckling as he repeats it in his head. over and over again.

Two figures re-appear out of the thick foliage of the tree line and make their way back to the line and signalling Tony to watch the two G.I.s' six.

The two infantrymen walk sternly towards the line, slowing their pace to a stop a couple of feet in front of the line.

"We found the pilot."

"What the hell do you want us to do about him?" Brent asks, looking up from the Russian and at one of the G.I.s that found him.

"Well I was hoping we could set him on the back of the tank and take care of him back at the camp." Brent gives the man a glare before looking back at the Russian.

"I'm not burying a fucking Commie." Brent says, shaking his head in disdain. The Russian had bailed but his parachute was critically damaged during the fire, half of it blackened by the fire.

"I never said you had to bury him, I just said take care of him. We could drop him off the cliff face, that'd be a lot better than burying him." The G.I. bargains, presenting a dopey grin to attempt to persuade Brent into helping him move the body.

"You're a fucking idiot." Brent says, gesturing at the G.I. as he turns and walks back to the tank.

"Have I ever told you guys how much I despise these god-damn newbies? They're so stupid." Brent says once inside the tank and back in the driver's seat.

"Hey Tony, what are we going to name the tank, anyways?" Brent asks, turning in his seat.

Tony nudges Josey, silently asking him for another drink of his canteen. The tank commander takes a long swig, wipes his mouth, hands the drink back to Josey, and then leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Shelby." Tony says, eyes squinting as he runs the name through his head a couple of times.

"What? You actually thought of a name?" Brent asks, surprised Tony gave an actual answer this time instead of just avoiding the question.

"Don't shit yourself, Brent. I thought about it last night and decided on the name Shelby; it's the name of my mother, so don't bad-mouth it." Tony says, pointing a finger at Brent and then moving it to the rest of the crew.

"Duen't worry boss, 'ah duoen't mack fun 'af anyone's name." Wallace says, peering through the gunsight at the scenery.

"Hey Tony, start heading back to town, reports of a convoy moving through the mountain range!" One of the G.I.s calls from outside of the tank, putting the crew on alert immediately as they scramble to get Shelby up and rolling.

Shelby comes to a halt behind some tall grass at the drop-off, the height coming just above the hull but leaving the gunsight relatively unhindered sight-wise. The tan uniforms of the crew's Communist foes are easy to spot when they are contrasted with the green scenery of the mountain range.

"How far out you reckon that is?" Tony asks, only sticking the top half of his head out of the tank to observe the NK movement with his binoculars.

"Five-hundred meters at-least." Wallace says, making slight adjustments in trajectory to make sure he hits directly the first time.

Down in the convoy of troops moving through the range, one soldier is more noticeable than the rest; he bears a blue kerchief tied around his left arm and what is obviously an officer's hat. On top of that, he remains fixed to one spot as the rest of the troops maneuver around a tight passage, surveying who's sticking with the convoy and checking if anybody has fallen behind.

Without warning, the great ninety-MM shell screeches through the valley and hits the narrow passage the NK troops tread along, landing right where the officer is standing.

The dirt and quick fireball engulf the officer, however he stumbles forward just seconds after he is hit, staggering to regain balance but ultimately ends up falling face-first off of the narrow passage and taking a fall down an incredibly steep cliff face.

Several other troops drop as a result of the blast and shrapnel, and even more end up falling down the face just as the officer did. The few troops that remain try and collect themselves, they can be seen obviously shouting at each other but they are too far out to be heard by the U.S. soldiers at the village.

Without skipping a beat, Tony gets out of the turret and stands on the engine block of Shelby before grabbing the fifty-caliber and popping off several tracer rounds to zero-in on the Commies.

It had been two days since the incident with the convoy in the mountain range when the crew of Shelby and the other G.I.s received new orders. They are to push farther North into the next major town of Kwal-Li, a town with a large amount of reported NK activity.

"Hey Josey, pass me that magazine." Tony says, reaching out and motioning towards Josey who hands him the magazine in turn.

"Hey Tony, correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't it you who told me to not read that same magazine you read now?" Josey asks, eyeing the magazine in Tony's hands.

"Well I'm not going to sit here for who-knows-how-long without distracting myself somehow. An absent mind is the Devil's workshop." Tony says, smirking as he reads the magazine.

"Well, don't you sound like my mother." Brent pipes up from the driver's seat, watching the road keenly and making sure to keep as centered as possible as Shelby cruises along.

"Well excuse me for utilizing my fre-edom.. of.... re-li-gion." Tony begins to trail off, looking up from the magazine and through his visor as Shelby rounds a tight turn and comes face-to-face with another green tank that's facing towards them, big Russian writing on the front as clear as day.

"Lo-load-LOAD A-P RIGHT FUCKING NOW!" Tony starts, squeak turning into yell as fear turns to anger. Josey jumps at hearing his commander so angry, but soon grabs a shell and shoves it into the breech, accidentally scraping one of his fingers as he does so.

The T-34 backs up for a second, pulls forward, and generally acts confused or stunned as the Patton struggles to become organized.

Brent stares out of his visor, bile in his stomach rising and sweat immediately beading along his brow accompanied by his skin growing a ghastly pale.

"WALLACE SHOOT FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" Tony screams, giving a stern, involuntary kick to Wallace's back. The gunner finally fires, the ninety screeches as a shell leaves the barrel and connects between the hull and the turret.

A big fireball rolls off the tank and a large burn mark takes it's spot over some of the Russian writing and over a good deal of the green paint. The magazine Tony had been holding the entire ordeal slides out of his hand, his mouth drops with his stomach, and his face relaxes.

"You loaded fucking H-E." Tony says in an exasperated tone, realizing that Josey didn't load A-P, probably hyped up in a fit of panic.

"This is your fault, fuck-face." Tony says, knowing this is it, this is where they die; halfway across the world in some Asian-shithole country.

The T-34's turret inches left and then right before finally....

BOOM.

A loud smashing noise rattles Shelby and her crew, causing two of the crew members to emit screams, but ultimately results in nothing more. Everybody in Shelby blink quickly as they all realize that the tank wasn't on fire and they were all fine.

"Josey, Josey load the fucking A-P RIGHT GOD-DAMNED NOW!" Tony's voice rises from a rushed talk to a roar very quickly. The loader grabs an A-P shell, making sure it IS and A-P shell, and quickly loads it into the breech. Wallace doesn't hesitate firing, cross-hair on the exact same spot as before.

The T-34 rolls backwards, trying to escape or throw off the M-47's aim, but the A-P shell still finds it's mark even with the movement of the NK tank.

The tank shudders, continuing to roll backwards as flames spew out the barrel of the Russian-built coffin, the hatch on top closed, completely sealing the crew inside. As smoke and more flame spew out the barrel, the crew of the Shelby all watch the slow demise of the NK crew.

Finally, the main ammo in the T-34 cooks off, causing the turret to fly ten feet in the air before coming down, bouncing off the hull, and then rolling off the side of the road.

The crew slouch back in their seats, breathing shaky and labored.

"Did that just happen?" Brent asks, squeezing his eyes and shaking in his boots.

"Yes, keep going forward." Tony replies, wiping his face multiple times to try and let off some of the adrenaline.

As the tank pulls forward, going to the right of the burning tank wreckage, the convoy of vehicles behind Shelby remains silent, in awe of the quick but deadly firefight that just occurred.

Another hour and the convoy finally make it to the next location they were tasked to go to; a NATO FOB at the bottom of a steep mountain, located at the start of a wide valley that runs on for a good mile or so.

Tony opens the hatch and pulls himself up before leaning over the top of the turret to see where the gook hit Shelby. He doesn't have to look long before he spots a large mark where the shell hit the turret mantlet. The spot where it hit looks like somebody took a spoon a tapped/smeared an area of a whip-cream can, the armor actually looking melted as it bows outwards slightly.

"Shit." Tony mutters, rubbing a hand over the damaged spot.